


We really must stop meeting like this

by anactoriatalksback



Series: I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love [1]
Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Colleagues who can't keep their hands off each other, Completely Gratuitous, Drunk Sex, Facials, First Kiss, First Time, Flailing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Masturbation, Promises made in the heat of the moment, Rimming, Self-Indulgent, problematic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: Okay, so they were drunk the first time. Six days on, that excuse is wearing thin.





	1. Inception

'Here's to Richard.'

'The man who birthed a new Internet.'

'And did sex on a woman.'

'Dinesh,  _try_  to pretend that you  _wouldn't_  shit yourself if you ever saw a vagina.'

'I've  _seen_  a vagina. Need I remind you, Celine Dion, that I...'

'Dinesh, I have no idea what grotesque Life In The Undergrowth parody of the act of love you perpetrated with your little hacker friend, but nobody -  _nobody_  - who calls fucking ‘doing sex on’ someone can be anything other than a virgin, however many times you’ve tricked a partner into repeating the offence.'

Dinesh is opening his mouth to retort when Gilfoyle continues 'although from what I hear, you're right about Richard. Richard did, indeed, do sex on Liz.'

'Or at her', muses Dinesh.

'In her general direction.'

'Yeah it's like WiFi. Get in the general area, it counts.'

'Except it doesn't.'

'Give me another glass of Old Pappy', says Richard.

'Not if you're going to shotgun it like you did the others, you Philistine.'

Richard makes finger-guns at Gilfoyle. He doesn't know why he does it, but the blood's bubbling in his veins like champagne. The New Internet works, the company's on the upswing, and he just told Gavin to get fucked.

Jared seems to be thinking of this as well, because he carefully raises his glass of Old Pappy - still being nursed, unlike Richard's - and says 'To Richard. Slayer of Goliath reborn.'

'Yeah', says Gilfoyle. 'I'll admit that sounded pretty badass, Richard.'

'Until you were stuck with the bill.'

'That we can't yet afford', says Jared thoughtfully.

'But still.'

‘Pretty cool.’

‘Yep’, says Richard, drunk on life and also on drink, ‘I’m a six foot David cock with a black eyepatch and I’m taking on Goliath.’

Even that doesn’t slow anyone down. Jared nods helpfully, his eyes brimming, and Dinesh only rolls his eyes. Richard leans back and sips his Old Pappy. Dinesh and Gilfoyle are discussing precisely where a six foot cock would wear an eyepatch for maximum impact. Jared pitches in with a story about a foster father who actually _had_ an eyepatch tattooed on his penis. At least Jared _thinks_ it was an eyepatch. After the obligatory appalled pause, Dinesh and Gilfoyle discuss whether scaling makes a difference. Richard lets it all wash over him, shutting his eyes.

When he opens them, Dinesh and Gilfoyle are at the whiteboard theorising a logarithmic scale for cock-eyepatch-to-tip distance (notation: d_ep,c) as a function of cock length (notation: l_c) (normalised by girth (notation: g_c)). Jared’s asked whether eyepatch diameter (notation: 2*r_ep) should be a function of a ) cock girth (notation: g_c) and b ) man waist-to-hip ratio (notation: FAT).

Jared’s very close to Richard.

It’s….nice.

Warmth radiates off him, off that green fleece, off the long arm pressed against his, off that bony thigh against his own.

It’s _very_ nice.

When Jared glances at his watch and announces that he’s calling a Lyft, Richard doesn’t want him to go. It’s cold now, unreasonably cold on the side where Jared was sitting and now is unfurling himself with the ponderous care of the rather drunk.

‘I’ll wait outside with you’, Richard announces. Dinesh and Gilfoyle are arguing about whether there should be a discontinuity in their objective function beyond a certain level of FAT and/or l_c, and don’t even notice him.

‘Oh, Richard, that isn’t necessary’, Jared says, but he’s swaying a little so Richard feels fine about taking his arm. This way Jared can lean on him. Or he can lean on Jared. It’s difficult to tell, and anyway as they stagger out all uneven tentpoles and legs and arms it doesn’t seem to matter. They bump into the SWOT board, the walls, the door, first Richard, then Jared, and it’s all _hilarious_.

‘Like a beast with two backs’, gasps Jared. And then he gasps again and blushes crimson. ‘Not – Richard, that wasn’t – I do understand the reference, I read Othello, there was a _shameful_ production I saw at Harvard, I don’t understand how blackface in this day and age is even - ’

And Richard stretches up and kisses him. Because Richard’s flying, and so was Jared, and Richard doesn’t want to hear about blackface. And then Jared’s mouth is so soft, and the inside of his bottom lip is so lush and giving and sweet, that Richard pulls him in for another. And another, because Jared’s let out an ‘Oh’ and grabbed Richard’s hair ( _yes_ ) and angled his head just so and yes yes _yes_.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there necking (that’s a Jared word Richard just knows it is) in the front yard, but thankfully the light’s busted so they’re in the dark, and anyway Jared – or Richard, he honestly doesn’t know which – has the presence of mind to drag them out to the side under cover.

And oh, that was an excellent idea. And untucking Jared’s shirt, that’s another excellent idea. And sliding his hand under Jared’s shirt so he can feel his skin leap under his touch, that’s another excellent idea. And wriggling his thumbs under his waistband so he can grab that bony, perfect ass, oh that’s a great idea.

Jared’s got some excellent ideas of his own. Pressing that large, slender hand against the front of Richard’s jeans, oh that’s an excellent idea. Undoing Richard’s fly is another excellent idea – and one-handed, because of course Jared can do that. Richard can’t manage it, so he has to leave off mauling Jared’s ass to fumble desperately at him. Jared whines against his mouth, but then there’s a startled, hungry ‘ _Oh_ ’, as Richard gets a shaking hand on Jared’s length, hard and getting slick under Richard’s inexpert fingers.

Jared’s not inexpert, no, Jared’s a fucking – a fucking _pro_ , and he’s deft and gentle and strong and the swipe of his thumb against Richard’s slit has him gasping, and the drag of his knuckles against Richard’s balls has Richard wriggling feverishly closer. Jared shivers at the contact, and Richard sucks at Jared’s collarbone mindlessly, and Jared moans again, and Richard wants to hear that sound again.

And Richard wants to see the flush on Jared’s thin cheek again, so he moves his leg higher up Jared’s thigh. And he wants to hear that awestruck gasp again, so he drags his hand up and down Jared’s hard, leaking cock.

And in the swamp of _more_ and _there_ and _want_ and _yes_ Richard can’t tell when Jared’s brought their cocks together, but Jared is a _genius_ even if he hasn't respected the precepts of optimal tip-to-tip efficiency, and when Richard’s unstuck his jaw from Jared’s shoulder, he’ll tell him so.

Jared’s jerking them furiously now, all his earlier finesse forgotten, and they come together, triumphantly and messily.

Richard’s head thunks back against the wall. Jared’s hand – sticky from what they’ve done – comes up as if automatically to cradle him. Richard turns his head to nose at Jared’s wrist. Jared’s pulse is hammering, the delicate vein leaping under his skin.

Richard turns his head to look at Jared. His pupils are blown, his chest is heaving against Richard’s, and he looks just as dazed as Richard imagines he does.

He licks his lips, once, uncertainly, and Richard’s spent cock twitches. ‘R-Richard - ?’

And what he’s about to say Richard really doesn’t know, but just then something vibrates between them, and they stare stupidly at each other for entirely too long before Jared realises it’s his phone and fumbles for it. His reflexes are shot, which distantly delights Richard.

‘My Lyft’, Jared says, and then looks at Richard. ‘I – my Lyft, I’ll - ’

‘Yeah’, says Richard, and then ‘ oh! Shit! Yeah! You should - ’

‘I’ll - ’

‘Yeah, I’ll just - ’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow’, says Jared, and then seems to realise that a number of things have to happen between points A and B. He lifts himself briskly off Richard. Tucks himself and then Richard back into their (respective) jeans. Nods chirpily at Richard and says ‘Three bells, and all’s well, my captain.’

And then he salutes – salutes with the hand that was on Richard moments ago – turns on his heel and is swallowed into the dark.

Richard stands there, staring blindly ahead. He lifts his hand – the hand that was on Jared – slowly to his mouth. Slowly he runs his tongue over his fingers, one by one. The taste is familiar, somehow, reassuring and exciting all at once.

Tomorrow, he thinks – later today, technically – he’s going to wake up to what he – what Jared – what he and Jared just did.

But tonight? Three bells, and all’s well.

So says Jared, and Richard trusts his mate.


	2. Scoping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is going to be calm. He is going to be pleasant. He is going to reassure his CFO that their relationship will be unaffected, and that Jared is valued, and important, too important to throw away on a night-time hand job, no matter how fantastic it was and oh God it really was…

Okay, it’s tomorrow, and all is most definitely _not_ well.

It only takes half a minute for the post-orgasm glow to fade enough for the realisation to cough in a significant manner and draw attention to itself.

Richard just made out with his CFO. More than that, he _initiated_ making out with his CFO. He just – oh God – he fondled his _parts_. And let his own be fondled in return. And spilled into said CFO’s hands. And had to be put back in position by Jared. And then stood sucking his own fingers to chase the taste of Jared’s come and getting half-hard _again_. Right out there in front of the Hacker Hostel where anyone with decent night vision could see. Where Dinesh and Gilfoyle could have seen if they could be prevailed upon to look away from their CockPatch Theorem long enough to wonder where the hell their CEO had gotten to.

Where – fuck – the neighbour kid and her mom could have gotten a metric fuckton, Richard’s-permanent-entry-onto-some-kind-of-register eyeful if they’d happened to want a nighttime stroll.

Oh, _fuck_.

And that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is that Richard is still – even now – getting hard at just the memory of Jared’s hands, his mouth, the fiery skin of his cock, his….

Oh, _fuck_.

Richard takes a deep breath. He thinks of baseball

_Jared’s knuckles against his balls_

Fuck! He thinks of Fermat’s last theorem

_‘Guys, would girth matter?’ and Jared’s long, slim cock, thrusting helplessly into his fist, perfect, perfect_

FUCK! He’s going to have to go nuclear. A final breath, in and out, and he pictures Donald Trump in a bikini.

Okay, that does the trick. Dragging in a shaky breath, Richard totters in and goes directly to bed.

Where he gets maybe one hour of sleep in between thick, vivid, full-body sense-memories of Jared and the feel of his collarbone under Richard’s mouth and the jut of his hipbone as it pressed into Richard’s own and…

Richard jerks himself off, dragging against the mattress. It helps, each time, but only a little.

And in the morning there’s a text from Jared saying that one of his old lady friends needs him to catsit or something and he wouldn’t want to risk compromising the integrity of the Pied Piper workspace so can he just work from home today.

And Jared’s never done that, even once, and plus Jared never mentioned anything about this and plus plus _what_ integrity of workspace? The CockPatch Theorem is still up on the whiteboard and Richard hasn’t thrown out any of the empty cans of Red Bull by his desk. Jared’s going to have to do better than that.

And then Richard realises that Jared’s avoiding him because of – because of what happened, and he can’t bear it.

Okay, he’s already decided that they can’t – they can’t do this again. They were clearly drunk. Very very drunk. And they’re colleagues. They’re, like, friends. And – fuck – no, they can’t, they can’t, and Jared has nothing to worry about, because they will never speak of this again, because there’s nothing to speak about, because they were just very drunk, and Richard will apologise because he did kiss Jared first although Jared did kiss back and technically Jared had his hand on Richard’s dick first and….

Well, anyway, the point is that they were drunk, and not responsible, and they will never do this again, and they will forget it ever happened, and it’ll be fine.

Richard’s going to find Jared, and they will discuss this in a nice clean neutral space, and they’ll agree, and Jared will give Richard tea or something, and it’ll be nice, and then everything will go back to normal.

Fantastic.

Richard pulls on a hoodie and jeans, and on the way out launches into a lengthy explanation of where he’s going and why he’s going there until Dinesh cuts him off with a matter-of-fact ‘Richard? We don’t care.’

Okay then.

Richard makes it to Jared’s condo and stands in the hallway rehearsing his speech. He is going to be calm. He is going to be pleasant. He is going to reassure his CFO that their relationship will be unaffected, and that Jared is valued, and important, too important to throw away on a night-time hand job, no matter how fantastic it was and oh God it really was…

No. He’s not going to say that.

Okay, Jared _is_ valued, _and_ important, and Richard _isn’t_ going to let his Biz Dev walk away in a hurry, and Jared already knows that, and Jared doesn’t have to worry, Richard will be so professional, and so collegial, and they can keep working together and being friends and confidants and it’ll all be fine and they can move past this.

Yeah. Better.

He rings the doorbell.

Jared answers the door.

Part of Richard’s brain is congratulating himself on rumbling Jared’s pathetically obvious lie of earlier: there’s no cat anywhere. Honestly, Jared.

And like 99% of Richard’s brain is cataloguing the circles under Jared’s eyes – so blue so impossibly blue – and the purpling mark of his mouth peeking out over the top of Jared’s shirt, and the way Jared’s lips part, and and and

Richard can’t remember who pulls whom in for a kiss, how he makes it across Jared’s threshold, who kicks the door shut behind them, who throws his satchel to the floor.

What Richard _can_ remember is

  1. Hands sliding under shirts
  2. Jared pressing his back to the door as he slides down
  3. The firm, authoritative pressure of Jared’s thumbs against his hipbones as he keeps Richard in place
  4. Jared’s breath hot against his fly as he mouths at Richard’s erection over his jeans
  5. The silken whisper of Jared’s hair in his hand, especially – _oh_ – the tiny strands at the base of his elegant skull
  6. The tropical, the _impossible_ heat of Jared’s mouth as he slides voluptuously, torturously slow on and off Richard’s cock
  7. The quirk of Jared’s eyebrows as Richard pulls feverishly at him to come in for a messy, tooth-clacking, _wonderful_ kiss
  8. The catch in Jared’s breath as Richard shoves an impatient leg between Jared’s
  9. The feel of the throw pillows on Jared’s nice couch as Richard’s splayed open, ass high in the air, as Jared tongue-fucks him until he’s sobbing and writhing and commanding and begging
  10. The _intolerable_ emptiness when Jared leaves to get condoms and lubricant, so Richard crawls after him to the bathroom, and well, since they’re already there and there’s a mirror and he can see Jared’s face when he comes…
  11. The soft, the _unbearably_ soft skin on the inside of Jared’s thigh that pale milky white thigh
  12. The sound of Jared’s name in his voice, hoarse or raspy or keening and accompanied by some variant of _yes_ and _there_ and _more_ and _harder_ and _now_ and often – so often – _please_
  13. The sound of his own name in Jared’s voice: startled, awestruck, worshipful
  14. The sheer _weight_ of Jared’s wide blue gaze on him when he comes. A weight that pins Richard, makes him feel like his beating heart is in Jared’s hands, or Jared’s in his, it’s too much, it’s too much, but Richard couldn’t look away if his life depended on it, your eyes, Jared, your _eyes_ , where did you _get_ them, why don’t you _warn_ people



Afterwards, as they both lie panting and winded on the floor of Jared’s bedroom, Jared says ‘We were – we clearly still _are_ – drunk.’

Richard pushes aside his private doubts with a firm hand, because really what other explanation is there? ‘Yes! Drunk. Still. Still drunk.’

‘I – I am sorry for having taken advantage of you when your ability to consent is compromised, Richard.’

Again, the doubts rear their ugly heads and glare at Richard. Again he ignores them. ‘You didn’t, Jared. Or – I mean – er – same to you I guess?’

Jared ducks his head, a flush rising to his hairline. Which is still beaded with sweat, which Richard could lick off if he just – _No_.

Richard hurries on ‘And so – I think – er, Jared – that we should - ’

‘Oh, we can’t do this again!’

Jared seems horrified at the thought, and Richard has to fight his pique, because he’s right and it’s what Richard was going to say, wasn’t it? ‘Absolutely.’

Jared clears his throat. ‘But – since we are – er – here, I wonder if I could draw your attention to some potential revisions that might need to be made to Board procedure?’

………..Okay, Richard _knows_ that half-naked and half-hard is a definite first for the two of them when discussing Pied Piper policy, but he’s all for a change of subject. ‘Sure.’

Jared nods. ‘So I think that we need to strengthen the oversight clauses for transfer of equity between Board members.’

Richard blinks. ‘Why?’

Jared coughs, and the flush rises again. ‘Well – er – for example, if one of the Board members were to – er – be persuaded to offer another a substantial portion of their equity, for – various reasons - ’

‘Why would they - ’ and then Richard lurches to a halt as a truly, truly horrible memory bursts on the surface of his brain. Himself, writhing and begging as Jared adds another finger, whining ‘ _Now_ Jared please fuck I’ll give you anything, _anything_ , half my shares – _all_ my shares – anything, _anything_ , just please - ’

Richard’s eyes lift slowly, fearfully, to Jared, whose blush seems to be more or less permanent at this point. Jared coughs again and says ‘Now of course, I would never take you up on the offer, but – er – I think that we should – er – take steps to avoid any future liability?’

_What_ future liability? It’s not like Richard goes around like a halfwit horny teenager every day of the week. This is the most attention Richard’s dick has gotten – including from himself – in _all of the time Richard has ever been alive_. Jared, of course, proverbially fucks, and – oh _God_.

‘Has this happened to you before?’ he winces as he hears the words come out of his mouth. Petulant, suspicious, fucking _heaving_ with jealousy, and Jesus, Hendricks, get a hold of yourself.

Jared’s eyes widen in hurt. ‘Richard, no! I swear to you, I would never be so irresponsible with Pied Piper.’ And then, as the implication of his words sinks in, he rushes on ‘Not that you were – or, oh, Richard, I know that you wouldn’t normally, and I promise you I would never take advantage of any – anything that you might say, or promise, in the – er – heat of the moment, I - ’

‘I know, I know, I know’, says Richard, who wants very much to not be talking about heats of moments and Jared’s prolific sex life and the things Richard promises when he is laid bare and gasping and burning, _burning_ with want.

Annnnndddd now Richard’s mortified and still, somehow, aroused. Ideal.

‘Fine’, he says hurriedly. ‘I’ll – I’ll leave it with you.’

‘Aye aye, Captain.’

And why why why why _why_ isn’t the salute, and the title, and that wide chipper grin, a stone-cold boner-killer? Why is it – oh God – very much the opposite?

Okay, Richard’s going to – Richard’s going to get his boxers, and his jeans, and his satchel, and he’s – he’s going to get out of here. He came here to tell Jared that they couldn’t – you know – that they couldn’t again, and he kinda did it, although he’d be the first to admit that they took a detour to get there. But the main thing is, it’s basically out of their systems, and they can move on, and it’ll all be fine.

Richard gets to his feet – or at least that’s the plan. But his legs don’t seem to be listening to him, and he wobbles, and Jared puts his hands on his hips to steady him, and there he is, standing between Jared Dunn’s legs, with Jared at eye-level with his cock. His stupid, traitorous, selfish cock. And Jared licks his lips, once, delicately, deliberately, pink edge of tongue peeping out, eyes hooded and it’s like gravity, except Richard’s flying, he’s in orbit around that soft, firm, _miraculous_ mouth.

That paperwork will just have to wait.


	3. Fieldwork

Jared lies in bed, carrying out a review of past actions, future intentions and immediate tactics.

The past actions are....well.

Jared has  
a ) engaged in intercourse with his CEO, his Captain, his friend  
b ) Multiple times  
c ) in a variety of ways  
d ) on a variety of surfaces  
e ) in a variety of locations  
f ) including this bed, whose sheets Jared had to make himself change because the scent of sex and Richard and sex with Richard was something Jared would bottle and bathe in if he could, but that would be an indulgence of which he had proven himself unworthy with his grievous, _grievous_ lack of self-control.  
g ) Well, anyway, he and Richard have had sex in this bed, and would probably still BE having sex in this bed if Jared hadn't gotten up to use the bathroom and Richard hadn't scrambled for the door. He didn't say goodbye, but Jared was too relieved, and frankly _exhausted_ , and just as frankly _physically_ sore, to be truly _metaphorically_ sore.

Jared is all too painfully aware that this is not an ideal state of affairs. He and Richard are just now reassembling their sorely-tested professional relationship after the Hoolicon debacle. Fluid exchange can only complicate things.

Leave alone the ramifications for Pied Piper. Jared knows that Monica and Laurie will have questions about his proposed amendments to the oversight clauses for members of the Board, but frankly, Richard seems incapable of restraining himself from promising the most worryingly extravagant-but-specific-and-legally-actionable things when he wants Jared to  
a ) keep going  
b ) do whatever it was he was doing, but harder  
c ) or faster  
d ) or again

Jared had to cover his mouth last time before he compromised himself any more. Which Richard seemed to enjoy, so Jared supposes that's a win.

Jared supposes that it's a good thing at least that he has discovered Richard's extraordinary inability to delay gratification, before any ill-intentioned miscreant made away with a controlling interest in Pied Piper. He even toys with the idea that it would be good to...ensure that Richard's indiscretions are kept...within the family. So to speak. Confined to people who mean Pied Piper only well.

But then there's.. _ _.__ the Thing.

The Thing being that Jared loves Richard.

Jared loves Richard's beautiful, razor-sharp mind. He loves his absurd, riotous curls. He loves the way he bites his lip when he is confused, or worried, or thoughtful. He loves his good intentions. He loves the bright, piercing _want_ that drives him. He loves him so much that he barely notices it anymore. His love is like wallpaper, like breathing in and out. It's a fact, and Jared can manage it, and can make sure that it never gets in the way of his duties.

 

_But._

 

This only works if he doesn't take Richard to bed. Or the other way around. Or both.

It only works if he doesn't know the taste of Richard's mouth.

It only works if he doesn't know that Richard also bites his lip when he's trying hard not to scream when Jared's sliding in his second finger.

It only works if he doesn't know what Richard looks like when he comes.

It only works if he isn't spent and boneless and whispering in Richard's ear that he is his bright, particular star.

And - while Jared believes in carrying out a thorough review - he really doesn't think there's any use belabouring the point, so Jared will not be revisiting what he shouted out the fifth time. Or what he moaned the seventh time.

Suffice it to say that Jared needs to recover some ground.

 

Right.

 

Jared gets out of bed, gets dressed, and presents himself at work.

 

The morning is fairly productive. Richard is working in his room nowadays, which is just as well because on the first day they tried to pretend that nothing had changed and Richard was working in the main room, and he was squirming in his seat and Jared couldn't look at him and he couldn't look at Jared and when Dinesh and GIlfoyle went to get coffee they lunged at each other and Jared banged his knee on the corner of the desk and it still hurts a little.

However, it also means that when Jared needs Richard's say-so, or signature, on the new contracts that Bream Hall are sending over, or anything else....well, he has to go to Richard's bedroom.

Which nowadays is a protracted, cautious affair involving Jared knocking on Richard's bedroom door and waiting for Richard to come to the door and staying in the hallway while he consults with Richard. The key is for Richard to not be playing whatever atrocious music he insists on blasting into his beautiful eardrums, so that he can hear Jared's knock. And also for Jared to avoid the temptation to go in. And also for Richard to not call Jared in.

It's...not an _elegant_ system, but it works.

Well, it works most of the time.

Well, it works half the time.

All right, it's worked twice.

And in the interests of full disclosure it should be mentioned that it has only worked because Jared watched out for Richard using the bathroom, scuttled into the room, left the documents on Richard's table, and scuttled out again before Richard could get back.

Because on the occasion that Richard _did_ get back before Jared could leave, there was a noise that Jared can only describe as a gibber, and he was pressed hard to the ladder of the bunk-bed, and Richard seemed to be doing his very best to climb him, and they only managed to get their jeans off in the nick of time, and Jared had to print out another set of copies for Richard to sign. 

And it is getting...increasingly difficult to work around Jared's love for Richard. especially on occasions like yesterday. The CockPatch theorem is still on the whiteboard, and Richard's taken a look at it and wondered whether it could be used to characterise the set of device bandwidths on which a minimum achievable compression rate could be achieved with his algorithm. He wanted to use it to crowd Shazam! out of the market, but Jared suggested that it would actually be better used to support the claim that a decentralised Internet should really be customer-facing. Richard stared at him for a long, long moment, gaze dropping from Jared's eyes to Jared's mouth, until he emitted a strangled 'Yes, good, yes, _so good_ '. Which reminded Jared of.....quite another context. And, from Richard's dilated pupils and flared nostrils, Jared wasn't the only one. Richard ran - _ran_ \- into his room, and didn't emerge for the rest of the day.

Oh, alcohol. See what you have wrought.

Although, strictly speaking, the two have - by mutual consent - stayed away from alcohol entirely for the past six days, so it is a little difficult to explain Richard's continued, intent, _voracious_ appetite for him. Horrified, yes. Reluctant, absolutely. but still... _persistent_.

So Jared has decided to put some distance between himself and the problem.

Not metaphorical, literal.

Jared has signed up for a short course. Emerging Perspectives and Synergies in Business Development for Small Mobile Local Enterprise. It'll be good for Pied Piper, he explains to Richard. He'll refresh his skills. There may be useful contacts. And perhaps some time (three weeks) will help Richard to focus on the technical possibilities of the CockPatch Theorem.

Richard looks at him. Nods once. Hesitates. Looks away. Says 'OK, yeah, have fun', in a tight voice. Slams on his headphones and breaks into a storm of typing.

Jared refreshes his skills.

He makes some useful contacts.

And Jared hasn't heard from Richard at all in the past three weeks, even though he expressly said that he should call if there was a problem, so surely this sabbatical will have...cured Richard of his - of whatever ails him, and they can go back to normal, and Jared needn't carry the weight of this aching, terrible, perilous thing anymore.

Which is all Jared wants.

Well, it's not _all_ Jared wants.

But he loves Richard, and he loves Pied Piper, and they can't go on the way they have been.

When Jared walks into the Hacker Hostel, Dinesh and Gilfoyle tell him that Richard's in his room. They sound a little...strange, to Jared. Curious. Watchful. Even a little accusatory. 

By the time Jared's walked into Richard's room, he's already run through a dozen scenarios, each more hair-raising than the last. Bream Hall is disbanding. Russ Hanneman's their only hope. Gavin's patent licence had a catch, and Pied Piper's being sued. 

So when he touches Richard's shoulder, he's at Orange Alert. 'Richard? Richard, what happened?'

Richard spins in his chair, whipping off his headphones. He says nothing, just staring at Jared for a very long moment in which his eyes seem to take up all his face.

'Richard? Richard, what's wrong?'

Richard seems to come to. He frowns. 'Wrong? What - what do you - nothing's wrong.'

'Dinesh and Gilfoyle seemed - I did say to call if anything happened at Pied Piper, and you didn't so - Richard, are you sure - '

Richard gives himself a little shake. 'Nothing - nothing's wrong. I don't know why they were - everything's fine.' He shrugs off Jared's hand on his arm, turns back to his screen. 'Welcome back.'

Well.

So Jared's hypothesis is correct.

Excellent. That's....excellent.

Jared straightens and turns to leave when Richard lunges for his hand.

'Richard? What - '

Richard pulls, not gently. Jared topples forward, almost onto Richard. He tries to put himself aright but Richard's holding on like a drowning man. He pulls, again, and Jared kneels so that his face is almost on a level with Richard's.

Richard lets go of Jared's hand, moves to cup Jared's face. His hands are shaking and his eyes are huge, burning in his face.

Jared tries to speak. Can't.

Richard brings his face closer, closer, closer, and Jared's mouth opens for him, but Richard doesn't kiss him, not quite. He presses his mouth clumsily to Jared's, but his lips don't move. He takes in a breath, in and out, and Jared thinks Richard's trying to take his air from Jared's lungs.

Jared wants to kiss Richard, _his_ Richard, so hunched and grey when Jared came in, he wants to give Richard his breath, his _life_ if that's what he wants. Softly, he tries to move his lips against Richard's, but Richard shakes his head, vehemently, and Jared stills.

Richard straightens, hands moving to Jared's throat, then lower, lower, lower. He tugs insistently at Jared's shirt, and Jared's hands move to unbutton it. They've never...they've never done this before. Every time, they've been too hungry, too frantic, too _desperate_ to do anything more than tear at flies and buckles and boxers. Jared would like to take his time with Richard, to unwrap him like a long-awaited present, to lavish kisses on his eyelids and his navel and the small of his back, to look him in the eye as he takes him slowly, slowly apart. But that would be....an indulgence, and one that would ruin him. It's best that he doesn't.

Although Richard has other plans. He pushes Jared's shirt off his shoulders, and presses his face to the place where Jared's neck meets his shoulders. It's sensitive there, and Jared shivers. Richard's arms tighten around him, and he moves his head. Left and right and up and down, with tiny, periodic flickers of his tongue, and throughout the brush of his impossible, absurd curls. Jared stays very still, breathing Richard in, feeling him breathing Jared in in great shuddering lungfuls, wriggling and nuzzling and squirming like he can't get close enough.

Jared's heart is beating so loudly he's sure Dinesh and Gilfoyle can hear it. 'Richard - '

'Let me', says Richard, and it sounds like a command, like a plea. ' _Let me_.'

When Richard reaches for his fly, Jared moves to help him and Richard bats away his hand. 'Let me', he says, and Jared lets him.

When he lowers his head to lap at Jared's painful, leaking cock, Jared says 'Richard, you don't have to', and Richard says 'Let me', and Jared lets him.

When Jared's almost too far gone, when he tugs urgently at Richard's hair, Richard pulls off only to gasp 'Let me', and Jared lets him.

When Richard slides into Jared, he croaks 'Let me?' and Jared pulls him closer, closer.

'Fuck', Richard groans, 'You feel...so _good_ '.

Jared's showering kisses on Richard's neck, his eyes, wherever he can reach, and doesn't answer. Richard grabs Jared's face, thumbs digging painfully under his chin. He looks bewildered. He looks _furious_.

'Where', he gasps, 'have. You _been_.'

'I told you', Jared tries to answer, but oh Richard's found it just there there _there_ , 'there was... a course - '

'You _left_ ', Richard growls. And he sounds so angry, so hurt, that Jared reaches up to take his chin in his hands. He tries to kiss him, to love him, to offer him what he doesn't know, but Richard nips ungently at Jared's hand. He looms over Jared, eyes boring into him. It's too much, and Jared's eyes flutter shut until Richard's hand tightens painfully on his neck.

'Look at me', says Richard. ' _Look at me_. Give me - _fuck_ \- give me your eyes, Jared.'

And Jared does. He holds Richard's stormy gaze while he comes, helplessly, while Richard siezes and then collapses on top of him, while he says all the things that have been welling inside him that he can't say and mustn't say and will die if he doesn't say.

He assumes that Richard's too far gone to remember what he or anyone else might say in the moment of crisis, but how long can that last?

And Jared is forced to conclude, after all, that time and space haven't made his problem go away.

 


	4. Interim Report

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared doesn't mark Richard. He is gentle, and careful, and tender. His touch whispers over Richard's parched, wanting body, feather-light, worshipful, delicate, torturous, wonderful. But he doesn't leave any visible signs of his travels, no insignia for Richard to bear aloft. No trophies for Richard to run his fingers over in secret.  
> It bothers Richard.

Richard likes to bruise Jared.

Not - not hurt him. But that pale magnolia skin shows the marks of Richard's fingers and teeth and lips so beautifully, and Jared arches into the touch and moans, and Richard can't help himself.

 

Jared doesn't mark Richard. He is gentle, and careful, and tender. His touch whispers over Richard's parched, wanting body, feather-light, worshipful, delicate, torturous, wonderful. He is firm when he needs to be, when Richard is keening for more. But he doesn't leave any visible signs of his travels, no insignia for Richard to bear aloft. No trophies for Richard to run his fingers over in secret.

It bothers Richard.

Not - it's good, it's better than good, it's - oh God, it's everything.

But once - just once - Richard would like Jared to sink his teeth into Richard's neck. Examine his handiwork with even a flicker of the savage joy Richard feels when he sees the prints of his fingers on Jared's bony hips.

 

Dinesh spotted the flowering purple marks of Richard's lips on the skin below Jared's jaw once.

'Jared, is that a _hicky_?'

 _Don't look at me_ , Richard thought in panic.

Jared didn't look at Richard, and Richard immediately felt a surge of rage.

 _Look at me_ , he thought, _look at me, just a little glance, look at me, I did that, we did that together, look at me, see me, Goddammit, acknowledge what we've done_.

Dinesh was agog about whatever chick Jared was banging, because of course Jared fucks, Richard knows, Richard _knows_ Jared fucks.

Richard doesn't fuck. Completely apart from his blinding horror of people in general, sex in particular is....it involves touching. _Wet_ touching. And sweating. And exercise. And people. All at once.

But with Jared, it's....

It's....

Richard wants all of it. Every touch, every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, every possible combination of everything. 

With Jared, Richard wishes his entire body was a mouth, so that he could just fucking _drink Jared up_. Drink him up so he would never be without him again.

 

Richard wants to be inside Jared. And also the other way around. He wants to drill to the heart of Jared, into all his nooks and crannies and crevices. He wants to scoop out everything he finds, carry it away and gloat over it like fucking Gollum. And in return, he wants to fill Jared up with himself. With himself and with Pied Piper, because Pied Piper needs him.

He wants _everything_.

And he _can't_ have everything, he knows that, and not just because - Richard knows it's not okay, to want to hoard a person for yourself like a fucking dragon with his treasure, but the thing that really bothers Richard is that he actually literally cannot have everything, because Jared just fucking hands himself over to people and missions and tiny birds and little old ladies and he is absurdly, fucking ridiculously _profligate_ with himself but the secret is that Jared will just, like, regenerate like a lizard growing his tail back and so there is always more of Jared that he just fucking scatters over the world and Richard will never have it all.

And Richard knows that's wrong, and sick, and unfair to Jared. He doesn't - he doesn't want Jared any other way than he is, his gangly beautiful insane idiot of a friend who will place his beating heart in your hands because it's fine, it's okay, he'll grow another one.

 

 

And he will, he will, he will, because when you've given so much of yourself away, you don't need anyone, you're free.

Jared's left before. Left Pied Piper, left Richard. Handed Richard a resignation letter - a fucking _form letter_ \- and left. And when Richard went to find him, to apologise, to just - ask him to bear witness to the death of this thing they had built together - Jared had company.

The other time - okay, look, Richard knows it doesn't count. Jared was going to a course, Richard knew he was coming back, and he did come back, he did, and it's not Jared's fault that the three weeks were one long aching crawl of grey. Except it _is_ Jared's fault because he fucking _reprogrammed_ Richard with one touch of his fingers, he reversed Richard's polarity, and then he _went away_.

Oh sure, he came back. Worrying about some company crisis, yes, that's the first thing Jared thought about, Richard's noticed, and now Richard's jealous of his own fucking company.

Yes, Jared came back.

Both times.

But that's not the point.

The point is that Jared has left before.

The point is that Jared _can_ leave.

The point is that Jared may say he loves Richard - and Richard has heard Jared, every time, and hoards the memory of each startled, ecstatic exhalation of those words - and he may want Richard, but he doesn't _need_ Richard. He isn't consumed with Richard's restless, clawing blood-song of _Jared Jared Jared_. He doesn't need Richard to make him feel like the world is falling away, like he's falling, like he's flying, like he's hurtling through the air without a parachute except the long bony arms of a stork in a Brooks Brothers sweater, and that's all the protection he needs.

Jared can leave.

Jared won't mark him, and Jared can leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was meant to be the last chapter, but I'll need to chop it up a bit because I'm travelling. Sorry, sorry, sorry.


	5. Final Report

Richard's going insane.

They're at Bream Hall, and one of the associates, Laura Something, is making a play for Jared.

It's so fucking obvious. She giggles when he makes one of his sweetly earnest Dad jokes. She bites her lip. She plays with her hair.

Red hair, curling gently. Delicate features. Jared towers over her, and she seems to love it.

And of course she does, why wouldn't she? In his more harried moments, Richard imagines an entire army of former Jared-conquests, shuffling down the road to the Hacker Hostel, Walking Dead style, glaze of blind hunger in their eyes, terrible, inexorable want.

Richard will join them soon. At the head of the pack, obviously, because he hasn't got as long to walk. Shuffle. Lurch. Whatever.

But in the meantime, here's Laura Something leaning in at a forty five degree angle towards Jared. Lips parted. Gazing at him like she wants to eat him up.

She probably _does_ want to eat him up. She probably deep throats like a pro. She'd probably whisper kisses over Jared's body with that pretty red mouth. She wouldn't leave angry red bruises on his skin. She'd probably be gentle, and tender, and love Jared's long pale body the way it should be loved.

So of course when she makes a minor error about their projected growth rate, Richard has to correct her at length in a furious tirade.

Monica intervenes quickly, and gives Richard an incisive piece of her mind about keeping his anal retentiveness to when it is wanted, and to steal some manners if he has none of his own.

Richard isn't paying attention, because Jared is soothing Laura Whoever, and she is gazing up into his face, and Richard wants. To _kill_. Her.

When they leave Bream Hall, Richard says 'let's go to your place first'.

Jared looks a little startled, but nods.

They're barely inside Jared's place when Richard says 'I mean, 23%?!? What was Monica _on_ when she hired that - that floozy?'

Jared looks concerned. 'She wasn't far off, Richard, and her credentials are excellent. Cambridge Tripos, Wharton MBA, and she really is remarkably sharp. I think-'

'How the - were you looking at her LinkedIn under the table or something?'

Jared laughs. 'It's a useful skill, Richard, the old Biz Dev submensa LinkedIn maneuver ! But-' and Jared coughs and the colour rises in his cheek, 'I - er - I have - met - Laura before.'

And Richard's brain comes to a screeching halt.

'Know her?', he says, and he can hear his own voice. Low. Soft. Very very quiet.

Jared goes very still, his eyes flickering to Richard's. He licks his lips. Nods.

Richard asks the question, even though he knows the answer already. 'You slept with her?'

Jared nods again, and Richard nods back, once, sharply. 'So was she - was she good?'

Jared tenses. 'Richard, you know I don't like discussing-'

Richard moves. He's on top of Jared, one hand on his throat, thumb under his chin, pressing his face up, inches from Richard's.

'We're not _discussing_ anything, Jared. I just asked you a question, Jared. Was she good? Did she, did she suck your cock like a pro? Does she have a gag reflex, I'll bet she doesn't, I'll bet they take a class on muscling past it in Cambridge. Did she swallow? Did she slurp you up and say thank you?'

'Richard-'

And Richard knows what he must look like right now, he _knows_ his lips are pulled back from his teeth and the skin around his nostrils is white and he looks like a very small, very rabid dog, he knows, and he hates himself, but he can't stop it, the words are pouring out and he's not behind the wheel anymore, it's this _thing_ , this animal tearing at his guts and it's turning on Jared.

'And what were you, what did _you_ do, Jared? What were you like, for her? Did you moan for her? Did you beg for her to lick you, to suck you, to go deeper? Does she know? Does she know how, how pretty you are on your knees? Does she know the sounds you make when there's a tongue in your ass? Does she know what you like, what you can take, how filthy you are, how fucking beautiful?'

Jared's pupils are dilated. His breath is coming harsher, and when Richard grinds down experimentally, he hears a groan. And yes, yes, Jared's hard under him.

And that's - oh God, that's - but Richard needs - he needs -

'Did you tell her you love her when you came?'

Richard stills. He hadn't meant to ask that question. Jared's holding himself very carefully beneath Richard as well. When he speaks, it is with the calm of someone who knows his answer is wrong, but doesn't know how.

'No.'

A pause, and Jared continues, holding Richard's gaze with those eyes those beautiful terrifying wonderful eyes 'Only you.'

And Richard knows what he has to do.

He scrambles off Jared. Goes to sit on a chair at the other end of the room. Takes in a breath. Lets it out again. Jared is watching him from the couch. His shirt collar is rumpled from where Richard grabbed it, his eyes are huge in his face, and he still has the remains of an erection.

Richard wants to go over there and kiss Jared senseless. He wants to cup him over his trousers and say 'Mine'. He wants Jared to agree.

Which is precisely why he needs to say what he is going to say.

'You need to get out.'

Jared's eyes widen. 'Richard, this is my place.'

'I know', says Richard. 'I mean -look, I'll get out. Now. Of your place. Once I've, once I've found my shoe. But - I mean, you have to get out. Of this. Of -' and he can hear how thin his voice is, how reedy, and he has to rush the words because otherwise he'll never say them, his body won't let him, 'Of Pied Piper.'

Jared sits up. 'What?'

 _Don't make me say it again_ , thinks Richard in despair. 'I'll waive your two weeks' notice, I'll write you the best references. You'll - any company would be lucky to have you, Jared, you're so-'

'Richard, why are you doing this?'

Jared sounds bewildered, heartbroken. Richard wants to take his hands and comfort him, take it all back, say _No I didn't mean it never leave me never not even when I ask you to_.

But that is exactly why it needs to be done. And Jared has a right to know, and it'll - Richard will explain, and Jared will leave, and it will be - it will be better for him.

So Richard says 'You - you love me, Jared?'

Jared nods. Simply. Just like that. Richard nods, too, in response. 'Okay. So. I don't - I don't. Love you.'

Jared nods again. Matter-of-factly. Politely. As though he is waiting for Richard to get to the actual new information.

Richard takes in another breath. 'I don't - love you, Jared, I want you.'

Jared nods again. Courteously, helpfully.

'I want - I want you - _all_ of you, Jared.'

Jared inclines his head. Like this is new but he doesn't really know whether it means anything. 'Richard, you _have_ all of me.'

Richard knew he'd say that. He's shaking his head before Jared's finished speaking. 'No, look, Jared, I - I want - I want you - fucking _consumed_ , all right? I want - I want you to think of me. Only me. Always me. And like okay Pied Piper because I need you and Pied Piper needs you and I -fuck - I want to fucking kill anyone who you smile at or look at or even think about who isn't me. And I - I don't - you can't, you can't be - I can't, because you just give and give and you're so good, you're so fucking good, and I can't, but I will if we, because you are _necessary_ , but I, but I need you to not, to not let me, I need you to be you, and I need you to be fucking yourself and _safe_ , and to not, and to not be with someone who wants to fucking _brand_ you, all right Jared?'

 Jared is listening intently. Good, thinks Richard. Jared is paying attention. He will understand. He will understand, and he will leave, and Richard needs to take a very long look at Jared and his eyes and his mouth and his hands because in twenty seconds Jared will show him the door and Richard will never see him again.

And then Jared says 'Where do you want the brand?'

His voice is....breathy. Excited. When Richard looks at him, the colour is high on his cheeks and throat, and he is staring very hard  at Richard.

It takes a moment for Richard to understand what Jared has said. And his entire body wakes up to the idea of Jared walking about with Property of Richard Hendricks somewhere on his person, and he has to take a deep breath to push away the dangerous, treacherous, seductive thoughts.

'No. Jared. Jared, did you hear me? I will - Jared, I will - I'll be _bad_ for you.'

Jared slides off the couch onto his knees. He crawls over to Richard. His face is turned up to Richard's.

'Richard, shall I show you where Laura touched me?'

Richard jolts. 'What?'

Jared's continuing. There's a lilt in his voice, and his eyes are filled with a dark mischief. Richard knows he's seen the look before, but where? 'She kissed my neck, Richard. Down to my waist. She liked my hipbones.'

Richard's brain is screaming. 'Why are you doing this, Jared?'

'My penis looked enormous in her hands, Richard. And when she-'

'Stop it', begs Richard. 'Stop. Why are you, why are you doing this? I don't-'

Jared comes closer, pushes his face closer to Richard's. 'Make me remember, Richard. Make me remember who I belong to.'

And now Richard knows where he's seen that look before. It's Jared saying 'Richard? We have a secret.'

Richard can barely recognise the voice that comes out of him as his own. He is so tight, so full, so bursting with fear and hope and want that he thinks he'll die. 'Jared, you have to -'

 _'Show me'_ , whispers Jared, his hands moving slowly, painfully slowly, up Richard's thighs. 'Show me.'

And oh, Jared should come with a fucking health warning. Richard can feel the tethers snapping, the ground falling away. He reaches for Jared's hair and pulls, hard. Jared's head snaps back, and he hisses _Yes_.

Richard ravages Jared's throat, leaving livid welts that will gleam beautifully against his white skin tomorrow. He mouths at Jared's pulse point. He sinks down onto the ground in front of Jared and palms him roughly over his trousers.

'Mark me', he gasps into Jared's ear.

'Where?'

'Anywhere', says Richard, and he means it.

But when Jared moves for him, Richard pushes his hand away. He needs Jared to come. He needs to be the one to make him come.

He weighs Jared's cock in his hand. He pumps his length, once, twice, three times, until Jared's squirming. He licks up and down Jared. He traces 'Mine' on the underside of Jared's cock with his tongue. He massages Jared's balls delicately, then roughly, tapping out binary code. He holds Jared's bucking hips in place.

When Jared gasps 'Richard, Richard, I'm about to', he pulls off and lets Jared paint him in long white stripes.

He crawls up to his spent, boneless friend and says 'Clean me up.'

And feels himself ache painfully as Jared licks and laps himself off Richard's cheeks and chin and forehead and hair.

And Richard is suddenly on his back, gazing up into his CFO's face.

Which is wearing that look again.

'Richard?', says Jared. 'I marked you, but you made me remove it.'

Richard can only pant.

'I'll have to do something about that', says Jared.

And presses one of those long, elegant hands down on Richard's throat, while holding Richard down with his own longer frame.

Richard is trapped. Pinned. He opens his mouth, trying to get air into his lungs, and can't.

He ought to be terrified. Jared is squeezing the air out of him, wearing that bright, dark, unsettling gleam.

He ought to be struggling, trying to buck him off, escape.

Instead everything - his entire being - is focussed on his aching, leaking, untouched cock.

Jared leans down and presses his lips against Richard's. Like CPR, but in reverse. And he whispers, so softly, but Richard can hear it over the roar of his own blood in his ears, 'Yours.'

And Richard comes, so long and so hard that he almost passes out.

When he comes to, Jared's cleaning him up. He smiles sweetly, drops a kiss atop Richard's head, and says 'I love you'.

Richard can't say anything, but later he watches Jared sleep, his lashes fanning his cheek. Like an angel, thinks Richard, and can't bring himself to cringe at the cheesiness of the sentiment.

He brushes Jared's hair off his forehead. 'Don't let me ruin you', he whispers.

And falls asleep with his fingers against the marks that Jared's hand left on his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Richard is absolutely into everything Jared is doing, but Jared at no point asks for Richard's permission to choke him. Read responsibly.

**Author's Note:**

> Gods help me, gods help me, I'm so sorry, chaps. This is entirely - but entirely - gratuitous, and I doubt very much that it contributes to the useful arts in any good goddamn way. Still.
> 
> My tumblr handle is itsevidentvery, if you'd like to come yell with me about these idiots there.


End file.
